


puddles

by adietxt



Series: ‘a softer world’ prompts [9]
Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Sanji's Afraid of Catching Feelings: the fic, spoiler alert: he catches them anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adietxt/pseuds/adietxt
Summary: Zoro takes a large gulp from his bottle and gestures back at the ship. “You coming?”This could be something,Sanji thinks. Wants to try, if he’s being honest.(Five times Sanji ran away, and one time he didn't.)
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: ‘a softer world’ prompts [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1148792
Comments: 32
Kudos: 382





	puddles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this 'a softer world' strip](https://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=908):  
> 
>
>> Our love was doomed; a burning building, a broken neck. But nothing since you and me ever feels like love. (I spend all my times in puddles. I miss the ocean).

i. arlong park

It does not take long for Sanji to learn that Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves.

He watches in fascination as Zoro faces Mihawk without a single moment’s hesitation — cut in half, bleeding all over the deck, but his sword stays true still. Zoro dreams, not of being _a_ great swordsman, but of being _the_ greatest; either you are, or you are not.

Sanji can understand that. It is not quite different from his own, if you look at it in all the right ways — you either believe in the All Blue, or you don’t. It either exists, or it doesn’t. You can’t bargain with faith.

But Sanji isn’t the same kid with the iron mask all those years ago who had nothing to lose; he has Zeff now, and a debt as heavy as a lost limb that he could never even _begin_ to repay. He knows how much a dream can cost. He knows how much _love_ — true love, the kind with complete and utter devotion — can cost.

Cocoyashi Village is in celebration, and Sanji finds himself tucked into a corner of the party together with Zoro, somehow untouched by the cacophony. They’re still sizing each other up, barely knowing one another past a fight and a promise to a captain. But Zoro has trusted him easily in that very fight, and right now there’s a spark in the air between them, something not entirely different from _attraction_.

Zoro takes a large gulp from his bottle and gestures back at the ship. “You coming?”

 _This could be something_ , Sanji thinks. Wants to try, if he’s being honest.

But Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves — he is not a man who _tries_. If Sanji takes the leap, this is it — they either are, or they aren’t. And if they aren’t — Sanji isn’t sure a crew as small and as tight-knitted as the Straw Hats can handle a break up, especially so early on in their journey.

(Sanji isn’t sure a heart as weak as his can handle a break up). 

“I’ll catch up later,” he shrugs, scrambling for an excuse. He suddenly feels like he’s ten again, terrified and running away. “Been wanting to check out this one recipe from that guy over there.”

“If you say so,” Zoro takes the dismissal in stride, and dumps the empty _sake_ bottle into a barrel as he stands up to leave.

Sanji watches him disappear into the night.

* * *

ii. enies lobby

The Mosshead has been giving him the nastiest look ever since the ship sailed away from Water Seven, so Sanji isn’t particularly surprised when Zoro stops him on his track on the way to Usopp’s workshop.

Zoro eyes the colorful drink on the tray in Sanji’s hand like it’s challenged him into a duel, before finally grunting, “you need to stop treating Usopp like that.”

Sanji’s eyes unwittingly follow Zoro’s gaze on the drink he made for Usopp — it has five colors, three different fruits, and a whip cream on top. Entirely too flashy for the male crewmembers, usually reserved for important occasions. Sanji feigns obliviousness, still. “Like what?”

“Like he’s going to break anytime soon,” Zoro says.

“You mean _nicely_?” Sanji snarls back. “Like a normal human being? Not everyone is like you, Marimo. Some people have _emotions._ ”

“It’s _insulting_ , is what it is,” Zoro retorts, his whole body leaning into Sanji’s personal space, like a challenge. “There’s never a need for you to _coddle_ him. Usopp made his decisions as a man back then, and he had to learn the consequences for it — ”

“And he has _learned_ , Zoro,” Sanji cuts in, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the fight leaving his body in a snap. He sighs. “Look — I get that it’s your thing, protecting our pride as a crew and all; I was on your side, remember? But it’s all in the past, and Usopp’s got your message, loud and clear.”

Sanji thinks of a little boy with the iron mask, who were forced to learn all his lessons the hard way; and what comes out next is, “I’m the cook of this ship. Let me feed him.”

 _Let me take care of him_ , he doesn’t say, but it means pretty much the same thing.

There must’ve been something in his voice, because Zoro seems taken aback; all the tension bleeds out from his shoulders, and he’s now _looking_ at Sanji with an unreadable expression.

There’s a moment of silence, stretched long enough to the point of awkwardness, before Zoro says, “ — didn’t mean to. I mean — quite a lot of shit went down, just didn’t wanna see you — don’t overexert yourself.”

Sanji blinks. “What are you _saying_.”

“All this talk about taking care of people,” Zoro says, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of — what? _Embarrassment_? “Why wouldn’t you let me —”

Zoro pauses there, sentence trailing off into nothing; but Sanji has always been good at reading Zoro, and he hears the words anyway.

 _Why wouldn’t you let me take care of you_.

Sanji thinks of the party in Cocoyashi, and then hundreds of moments after that — quiet moments in the galley when Zoro helped him wash up the dishes, playful banters that Zoro could only keep up with. Countless enemies they fight side by side, together, the way he feels his heart beat in sync with Zoro’s from across the battlefield.

“Cook —” Zoro puts his hand on Sanji’s shoulder then, and the touch _burns_ , like an electric shock; it jolts Sanji back from his thoughts, a reminder of the reality between them, the way they would fight as hard as they love, and what would that leave him, in the aftermath?

“Let me _go_ ,” Sanji says before he can stop himself, and practically _runs_ to Usopp’s workshop.

* * *

iii. thriller bark

“You’re a _dumbass_ ,” Sanji says.

“Hn,” Zoro says, not arguing for once.

“I’ve always known you have _moss_ for brains,” Sanji continues, fully aware he’s rambling but unable to stop himself, “but who would’ve thought you’d be _this_ dumb. What kind of complete and utter _idiot_ would be so fucking _reckless_ against a warlord for the _second_ time in his life.”

Zoro hums noncommittally.

Sanji tightens the bandage across his torso with a little more force than necessary.

Zoro makes a pained grunt, and Sanji winces at the sound; they’ve roughhoused each other countless of times before, but this is the first time Zoro can’t take something Sanji dished. It shouldn’t be surprising though, not after the wounds he has taken from Bartholomew Kuma —

“You need to learn to pick your battles,” Sanji rambles on, because he’s suddenly hit with the realization that if he stops talking he might actually _cry_. “Or at least employ some strategies. Ever heard of those? That’s what people with brains usually do when they fight instead of simply waving some pointy sticks against the enemy. Raise your hand a bit —” he moves to the wound on Zoro’s arm, taking greater care to make sure he’s as gentle as possible, a silent apology for the earlier mishap. “Right there. Yeah. Anyways, I was saying —”

“Sanji,” Zoro says, and Sanji stops.

It’s so unfamiliar — the way Sanji’s name rolls off Zoro’s tongue, shaped by his deep voice. It sends a shiver down his spine, Sanji’s heart suddenly rattling against his ribcage.

When he looks up, Zoro is staring back at him with half-lidded eyes, something other than pain marring his gaze.

 _Longing_.

Sanji feels his throat dry all of a sudden.

“Sanji,” Zoro says, voice low and rasp, but steady. And then: “stay.”

Sanji drops the bandages in his hands. He can’t do this — not when he’s staring at the very reminder of what it would _cost_. The idea of losing Zoro, as a _nakama_ , has already torn him from the inside; he can’t imagine what it’s like to see Zoro’s lifeless body on the infirmary bed, as a lover.

He remembers standing in front of her mother’s grave, feeling like he’s coming apart at the seams, and wanting to tear up the stitches; wishing he could just unravel after so much _hurt_. 

“Zoro,” he says, feeling like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, “I — I _can’t_ —”

But when he dares himself to finally meet Zoro’s eyes, the Swordsman has lost consciousness again.

Sanji flees the infirmary.

* * *

iv. zou

He flips Big Mom’s invitation to the tea party over and over again, staring at the words etched on the paper.

_Groom: Third Son of the Vinsmokes, Sanji._

The words settle unpleasantly in his gut, and he swallows, trying to calm himself down. He’s no longer the same weak kid with the iron mask; he’s now a Straw Hat, and he’s going to settle his issues with his pathetic excuse of a family once and for all.

That’s all.

...so why does it feel like this isn’t going to end well with Zoro?

Thoughts of the Shitty Swordsman appear in his mind, unbidden. A scowl, definitely — maybe a few scathing words to accompany the look. Something about Sanji and his self-sacrificial tendencies — as if Zoro has any right to lecture anyone about _that_ — or maybe some diatribe about trusting the crew to take care of one of their own.

Which is _not_ what this is about, at all. Of _course_ Sanji trusts everyone in the crew — trusts _Luffy_ to be able to take care of himself. But this is _his_ problem, and he’s the only one responsible to fix it. There’s no need to trouble everyone with a little family problems.

(So why does it still feel like he’s running away?)

* * *

v. whole cake island

“First of all, the captain of my own ship came all this way to track me down,” he says, raising a finger for emphasis, “only for me to insult and hurt him to the best of my ability despite no resistance from him whatsoever. That means I cannot go back to your ship right now.”

 _Run,_ he remembers being ten, hearing Reiju’s voice through the prison bars. _There is no turning back. Your mistakes are final._

“Second of all,” he continues, “the shitty geezer who saved my life and the home where I was raised are being held hostage in case I don’t play along. That means I cannot escape from this wedding.”

 _Run_ , he remembers thinking every time he caught sight of Zeff’s leg. _This is the cost of your dream. This is the cost of your love._

“Third of all,” he says, voice rising even higher, “the evil family to which I’m related to is walking into Big Mom’s trap, and they’ll all be slaughtered in a matter of hours. They’re scum of the earth to whom I owe nothing but my hatred but I cannot bring myself to abandon them to their fate and run away!”

 _Run_ , he tells himself. _Your love worths nothing. You are not worth anyone’s love._

“For these three reason,” he says, eyes avoiding Luffy’s. “I cannot return with the rest of you.”

There’s a bright sunburst of pain against his cheek, and the momentum of the punch throws him against a tree bark, shattering under the impact.

“Tell me how you really _feel_ ,” Luffy yells. “What do you want, Sanji?”

For the first time in his life, Sanji stops running.

* * *

(i. wano)

Sanji didn’t notice at first, with all the flurry and chaos of the fight against Kaido; but once things have settled down, it occurs to him that Wano is a spring island.

The air is tinged with the kind of heat that barely tips over to unpleasant, uncomfortable without the unbearable fever of summer. Even the nights are wearily humid, which is why he decided to stray away from the celebration feast into the forest, and finds Zoro training alone, swinging his new sword against the wind.

They have not had a moment to themselves ever since — ever _since_. All of their conversations have mostly been in the heat of the battle, and Sanji isn’t quite sure if they simply did not have the time, or if Zoro has been avoiding him.

It doesn’t matter — here they are, gravitating towards each other still. As if fate herself has weaved a path for them, time and again.

He thinks he can still hear Luffy asking, in the rain: _what do you want, Sanji?_

“Zoro,” he says, and faces him, head on. “I am in love with you.”

He thinks Zoro would’ve been surprised, once upon a time; maybe if Sanji dared to say it under the Alabasta moonlight, or bathed by the campfire light in the Sky Islands; but now, it feels superfluous, almost redundant. It is no longer the truth that matters between them.

Zoro finally turns to meet his eyes, and sheathes his sword into its scabbard. “What do you want, Cook?”

The same question, again. He’s been running away for so long, he’s forgotten what truly matters, before the risks and the tragedies and the _costs._ What he truly _wants_.

The answer to that has always been simple.

“I want us, Zoro. Together. In whichever way you’ll have me.”

Zoro walks up and stops, right in front of Sanji. “You have _me_ ,” he says. “You’ve _always_ had me. It’s you who’s always —” Zoro pauses, gritting his teeth, frustration written all over his face.

“I know,” Sanji says, heartbeat rising up his throat, his ears, his mouth. “Zoro, I —”

“I need to _know_ ,” Zoro says, hand a hair’s breadth away from Sanji’s own, but not quite touching. “I need to know if you will keep running away from me or not.”

Sanji takes the offered hand and closes the distance between them.

It is a short kiss at first, only a cling of lips — and then he feels Zoro’s free hand drifting up to cradle his face as Zoro leans in for another kiss, and another, little dips of kisses, as if Zoro needed the constant reassurance that Sanji is here, with him. And Sanji can give him that, owe him that much — he breathes into the kiss, chases Zoro’s lips and mouths at the curve of his smile.

“This is it, right?” Zoro says when they part, forehead still pressed against one another’s. “Because this is it for me, Cook.”

Sanji thinks of Zoro, who doesn’t do things in halves. Either they are, or they aren’t. And for once he realizes — not the fear or the risk, but how much of an _honor_ it is, to be loved by this man. Wholly and entirely and all-consuming.

“This is it,” he tells Zoro, and squeezes Zoro’s hand. “No more running away.”


End file.
